The most unpardonable sin in society is independence
of thought. That this should be so terribly apparent in a country whose symbol is democracy, is very significant of the
tremendous power of the majority.

perhaps.... perhaps the world could be something more or less than a round continuim. Perhaps what we call love
could become a mountain with endless

elevators to carry the weak who can't climb mountains to encounter and embrace such silliness as love.

So much insensitivity and awfulness in this world... is it really necessary? Must we rejoice in the death of any
human being, no matter how evil? Could we not instead grieve for the good they could have been and simply give thanks
that they will no longer be able to harm?

I do not understand this world... So much joy in sadness, so much sadness in Joy...

I have neglected so much in my search for the truth. Once, I maintained
a site that could have contained the world, but now the world has become too insane for anyone to contain in such a box as
this.

What to do? Shall I carry on in an attempt to hide the fact that I have failed at enduring
the humanity of life? Shall I hang my head and wear my veil of tears? Shall I ride my donkey off into the sunset
with sequins on my ankles? Such difficult choices and yet so many remain to be examined.

"Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing."~Salvador Dali (1904-1989)

"When my daughter was about seven years old, she asked me
one day what I did at work. I told her I worked at the college- that my job was to teach people how to draw. She stared back
at me, incredulous, and said, "You mean they forget?"~ Howard Ikemoto

The Artists Fate

Juliette C

-I-

Within the question of Heaven and Hell

There lies a secret hidden well.

Tales of sadness, terror and grief

The lot of artists and the beauty they weave.

In heaven lie the joyous souls

Of those who sing in joyous notes.

Their songs of peace and love rehearsed

While in the Hell of art theyre versed.

A frugal man may heaven meet

With simple dreams and lovers sweet.

Hell always find his hearts desire

For in him not is the touch of fire.

And heavens beauteous gates reveal

The distant labour of souls unsealed.

A riot of beauty and color set free

But not there will an artist you see.

For he who writes such masterful prose

Sits deep within a hell morose.

His deepest pain doth beauty bring

His harshest terror will with eloquence sing.

And in this circle the truth is found

That to decorate heaven is the artist bound.

While in his hell shall he reside

His greatest works are at Gods side.

Portrait--Nat

pencil

-III-

Stefano awoke so cold and alone

without Colette he would never know home.

The laws of God he did then discern

that even for true love will the artist be spurned.

And deep in Hell his soul shall keep

forever for Colette his poor heart will weep.

His lot now is only to work on and plod

in the creation of beauty... only for God.

Alas this chore he never could take.

Without Colette hed no beauty to make.

To curse his God did he soon scream

to suffer alone this nightmarish dream.

Until with love he came to find

Yet Colette was with him if only in mind.

To the beauty of her he once more composed

songs not of Heaven but of his sweet rose.

Deep within the fiery gates of Hell

to praise the sweetness of Colette did he knell.

For Colette became the only God he could bear

and praising her name the only labour of care.

To forge a sweetness from his poverty

and send for her eyes a love she could see.

Then in Heaven Colette did not deny

the work of her love, even did God it defy.

trust -- watercolor

Girls

Yes... her mouth was a perfect bow, the delicate pink of

bunny ears and cotton candy.

They opened to spill truth in no particular order. Yes

Her eyes seemed to promise some special understanding

but you know I just want too much.

I want her to love me like I love her.

No I don't mean in some romantic manner...

I want her to love me because I show her the parts of herself that she

finds beauty in

because I reveal those fears as silly thoughts to laugh at.

I want her to love me because I make her feel at home...

I love her because of those things.

Because her voice convinces me that I might be human after all,

because her hands fall gracefully into her lap

and I think maybe, maybe I will be real too.

But I expected so much of this girl. too much.

I held her responsible for my heart, so fooloish of me,

So selfish of me...

I should not give such power, such responsibility

to a human being.

I should hold it close inside and live alone,

protected from the common dissapointments of life,

insulated from hurt, from happiness

I should be happy in the gray cloud that numbed me before.

at least then my tears were never alive to humiliate me.

Water Goddess -- Ink & Watercolor

Home

I think I may have lost a tear today

somewhere between the motion of my hand touching

soft lips

I lost it, a precious diamond slipping carelessly into the unknown

I could have cried for the futility of such things.

Why waste a tear when so many could be useful

when I could spend them on memories I hide from everyday

or put them on sale for others who haven't saved them

as frugally as I always have.

There was no reason for my lapse of control

no tender heart stung by my tongue,

no evil person tearing away at me

no...

I just have no reason.

Maybe my eyes are reminding me of the beauty I am missing

maybe they desire to leave this cramped room

and see what promises the spring has fulfilled.

I'm not ready for that though.

My hair is unwashed, my laundry undone.

My cats stare at me wistfully

as if accusing me of being a careless parent

Careless about myself,

But I believed, today,

that to miss beauty would make it better on return.

whatever... I should take up drinking.

All about Juliette.. I should start with my lack of a question mark
key, I guess. So assume questions at any given moment... I could give up everything except the hated elipse...
oh how missing keys inspires beautiful cruelty.

The girl I like most loves footie pajamas, but I love the sky... it changes more than I. And I love imagining the
world through the eyes of the blind, and I love darkness except when I'm alone. I'm always alone. then, what do I hate...
I hate breathing on Sunday's and being afraid of what will begin in the morning, and feeling hopeless while I know I'm dripping
hope from every pore. I hate my eyes that snap pictures in high conteast color and turn buildings into such things as
trapezoids and other equations, then they capture some hidden moment that should have gone off into the blank of history without
being noticed. I hate that.

We read of the beaver that when it is pursued, knowing that it is for the virtue [contained] in its medicinal testicles
and not being able to escape, it stops; and to be at peace with its pursuers, it bites off its testicles with its sharp teeth,
and leaves them to its enemies.

--
Leonardo Davinci

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-II-

I share a tale of lovers sure

a man of art and his lady pure.

Of Stefano who lives a life of sweet strife

with Colette his muse and gentle wife.

He spends his days with inspiration divine

from silken tongue and eloquent mind.

His moods they sway from high to low

but within his art is beauty sown.

Upon the eve does his heart emerge

to take solace in Colette and evil purge.

For her is every beauty he creates

to honor his sweet and gentle mate.

And when his fiery temper burns

her gentle hands he cannot spurn.

Their life a fairy tale unknown to man

With affection so pure it will eternity span.

They weaved the fabric of life by their will

and Fates evil sarcasm dared they to kill.

To love so pure and without shame

to defy their Lord and curse Her name.

Even in death they willed to vow

to keep their love intact somehow

and yet the Fates they did contrive

to end true love... Hence lovers died.

Venus --35mm Color Photo

-IV-

In Stefanos art God soon came to see

twas made for Colette and not for She.

The wrath of God They were destined to meet

Him for his truest art and she for her need.

Then it was soon God came to find

that not unto Heaven would Colettes heart bind.

Within the sweetness of Heavens gates

Colette cursed God and the cruelty of Fate.

To keep her from her lover true

and bow to a God whos heart never knew

that love in itself is more binding than life.

It conquers all sadness and defies every strife.

And Colettes gentle soul God must then expel

to make all things right with Heaven and Hell.

God cast down a woman to true to endure

All time in a Heaven with her faith secure.

In sweet Hell Colette did happily find

her true love Stefano and love beyond time.

Then to his God did Stefano create

Poems for the Heavens with absence of hate.

Now has our Lord learned to discern

tween false love and true love thatll never be spurned.

All is now well between Hell and the Heavens

Since true love endures and Fate is forgiven.

Lovers

35mm-- photoshop color

zen --35mm color

bubble

no one makes me nervous, you know

i always walk about, indifferent

looking into so many plastic eyes

and feeling more alone with each step

i wonder if their skin would taste like rubber between my teeth

they seem so much like clocks

all springs and coils,

long arrows to point at everyone else

but no soul to touch me under that ground.

i must be wrong

it cant be that everyone else is a doll...

it must be me who walks on strings with

wooden eyelids and cherry stem lips.

then i see clearly that i am less than human

somehow

my inability to connect with the outside-

that bubble around me-

it looks fragile but don't believe.

and i see each moment floating before me

knowing i am always alone-- for the better i guess

and as soon as i can no longer breathe at all there comes

close a bubble i almost recognize

then sometimes-- two times to be exact--

in that bubble is another being who

might also be made of air

and when I look into their eyes i see

everything

and when they talk i

understand

and mystery becomes something deep inside instead of some

spicy fragarence or cosmetic

meant to conceal the superficiality of us all.

no plastic there.

all pure flesh and soul speaking loud

and i see that i could be not alone- maybe

and that makes me nervous

because

i have not been vulnerable before.

Sun God -- Ink & Watercolor

What's New?

one day I went off the rocker and flew back to Venice where my old hamburger sat waiting paitiently
for my approval... Then my lost child asked me where we where again and I looked into those eyes, so big like saucers
and stole some more of what was already gone away. and I can't explain those eyes, they couldn't be captured, they shine and
cry and make me feel bewildered once again.